Un Ada Oda
by Yotka
Summary: In which young Al Capone and Amelia Earhart switch places — Al follows an annoyed Larry around as he tries to evade Kahmunrah's henchmen, which include but are not limited to: Ivan the Terrible, Napoleon Bonaparte, and the infamous Amelia Earhart.
1. Amore

They're running for their lives.

Correction: _Larry_ is running for his life. Al — as in Al Capone, _the_ Al Capone — is running alongside him, and appears to be in distress. Larry almost rolls his eyes. If Al wasn't so dim-witted, he'd realize he could walk off at anytime and it would make no difference whatsoever.

As they run through various art exhibits, Larry thinks about their first encounter. The little hide-and-seek game of life and death Larry had been playing with Kahmunrah's henchmen in the storage unit had been cut short when Al appeared out of nowhere and declared he wanted "a piece of the action," so to speak. And, hey, if Larry was a living wax figure stuck in a storage facility underneath a museum, he'd be pretty bored, he guesses, but he seriously doubts he would take to following a cranky ex-nightguard around for an entire night just to satisfy his boredom.

If they're caught, Al would most definitely be let free; he wasn't involved and probably couldn't care less about the whole "conquer the world" jazz Kahmunrah had cooked up. Al didn't have the tablet, he didn't steal the tablet, he didn't even know he was made of wax!

All in all, the black-and-white mobster was nothing more than a ball and chain. Larry considered saying they should split up, which Al would definitely fall for, and then _boom!_ — no more dead weight! That is, _if_ Larry managed to avoid him for long enough…

"Ah, c'mon!" Al cried.

Larry skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding the pointy end of a bayonet, and whirled around, only to find another bayonet thrust into his face. He looked over to find Al experiencing the same dilemma.

They were surrounded.

Larry never thought he'd be so mildly inconvenienced to see Napoleon Bonaparte flashing a little knife in his face, but here he was.

The guy was… odd, to say the least. He was way too hung up on the whole height thing — Larry told him so, which Napoleon didn't seem to like. Nobody seemed to like anything Larry said. But before anything could really happen, Al had to go and comment on Napoleon's bragging of his so-called "strategist mind":

"Snazzy maneuver, Emperor."

Larry had no faith that this wax Napoleon had any sort of "mind" at all. Also, what the hell, Al? Whose side was he on? He couldn't be smart enough to use approbation as a tactic to free themselves, could he? And, judging by the tone of his voice, Al was going for a little more than approbation...

Larry guessed it didn't matter, because the moment the words left Al's mouth, Napoleon looked over at the mobster and a sleazy grin spread across his face. Smug. Flirtatious. He stepped over to Al, that dumb smile broadened even wider.

"Ah, hello there, black-and-white man."

Al looked down at Napoleon in a flirty gangster sort of way, confident and (what Larry labels as an attempt to be) sexy.

"'Tell ya what," said Al, "I like ya. You seem like the smart type to me. I seriously doubt it took you any brains or brawn to track down an idiot like that, huh?" He jabs a thumb toward Larry. "But, hey, I get it: 'bossman must be servin' ya a pretty penny for all your troubles, huh? Been there, believe me."

Napoleon seems to be pleased by both the approbation and the flirting, and especially by the way Al loomed over him. "I like where this is going…"

"Of course ya do, smart guy like yourself! So," Al said, his voice growing buttery and whispery, "can't we talk about this? You're not really gonna arrest my friend here, are ya? For cryin' out loud, be reasonable." His tone got quieter and quieter as he spoke, his head leaning closer and closer. "You could be using all that moxy for a real challenge worthy of a real good strategy, huh? Something only a general like yourself can cook up in the ol' noggin? Not this — this simple little cat and mouse stunt you've been pullin', it ain't worth your time."

They faces were very close now. Al loomed over Napoleon, forcing the short man to look up at him, but he could've just as easily kissed him with no hassle if he so wished. And, from the way things were going, it wouldn't be insane if that did happen.

"I like what you say to me, uh…?" Napoleon purrs. He takes a step forward. Their chests are almost touching.

"The name's Al. Al Capone." He grins. "Whadya say, short stuff?"

"Ah, yes, well, Al…" Napoleon says, coming so close and tilting his head ever so slightly, his eyes lidded, "Unfortunately for you, the 'pretty penny,' as you say, is very much worth my time. But I like your strategy — a very... primitive approach."

Al freezes. After a heartbeat and a blink, he barely begins to retain his composure, muttering a small "ya can't blame a guy for tryin'" as Napoleon pulls away and turns to Larry, who awkwardly stands there, watching them.

"That was weird for all of us," he deadpans.

Napoleon shouts orders in French and he and his men lead Larry away. Al is left there. He immediately regained himself and calls after Larry and shoves toward the Frenchmen, but is ultimately pushed away and earns a "our fight is not with you!" from one of the men.

Al finds Larry later on, who fills him in on what happened with Kahmunrah.

"So we gotta find another combination? What kinda fuckery is this?"

Larry decides not to comment on that previous… _exchange_ Al had with Napoleon, and chalked it up to a moment of desperation and panic on Al's part. "I don't know, man, but we have to get these hieroglyphs translated. Jed's life is on the line here."

They ask a bust of Teddy Roosevelt for guidance, who helps them somewhat, but Larry really strikes the jackpot when Al absentmindedly says:

"I still don't get it — whatta bunch o' bozos! Who do they think we are? _Einstein?_"

Cue the turned-on light bulb above his head. "Actually…"

Al finds the Albert Einstein bobble heads before Larry can even begin to fathom where to look; he guesses the guy isn't a complete waste of space after all. And, with much consulting and an unfortunate amount of violent threats from Al's side, they do get the combination.

"3.14159265359…"

"Okay, okay, we get it. Al, you got that?"

"Sure thing, boss."

Finally, he's good for _something_. "Okay, c'mon. This took awhile and I haven't been paying attention to the hour. We should hurry —"

Larry's words die in his mouth when the the onslaught of Kahmunrah's henchman come forth from an impossibly cramped elevator. Before he can even snicker at such an idea, the crowd surges forward.

"How'd they find us!" he hears Al shout, throwing his hat on the ground. Then the sight of Amelia Earhart and her henchmen pilots click and Larry realizes that all of the wax people in the aviary section were probably on par with her, too. "Damnit!"

"We gotta get outta here, now!" Al cried, grabbing Larry's hand and leading him away.

They ran and climbed up an exhibit to reach some sort of old-fashioned plane — the Wright Flyer, Larry reads on a nearby plaque — and before Larry can process what's happening, Al had already hauled him onto its surface and placed his hand on the joystick.

"Fly us outta here, bossman! Hurry!"

Before the Wright Flyer fully lifts into the air, Larry looks to his left and finds Al sliding off of the plane and falling — a long, painful way — to the floor beneath them.

Shocked, he sees the culprit: an aviary henchman who grabbed Al's foot and yanked. Before Larry himself could be shoved off and captured, he gives the pilot a good kick and she meets the same fate as Al. Larry, against all his principles and wishes, propels the piece of junk into the air.

Flying through a museum on an old rickety plane that he doesn't know how to drive is not how he wants to be spending his Friday night, he realizes, and, oh _God, how is he supposed to fly this thing? He's not a pilot, he can't do this...!_

Al is reeling. His head is a throbbing mess and his aching body isn't doing too shabby either — God, it feels like he fell from the moon to Earth, not a couple of yards. What kind of tiling is this, anyway? Had these lift-off stations ever heard of carpet, by chance? Lunatics, if ya ask him!

He slowly opens his eyes to find a familiar figure leaning over him — several, actually. Amelia, Ivan, and Napoleon…

"What should we do with his little friend?" Amelia says.

"He is prisoner now. We cannot have him helping Larry again, can we?" Ivan suggests. "We must lock him up. Put him with the others."

Al experienced the same fate as Jed, except he wasn't put into a ginormous hourglass — they shoved him into a crate with all the other prisoners, which include but are not limited to: a fancy-pancy American general, Sacagawea, Attila the Hun, a little monkey, and a few cavemen.

Not the ideal prison, Al mused. He glanced at the general, and cringed. He'd bust outta this joint if it was the last thing he did; the question was: how?

Through the puny little crack in the crate's doorway, Al could barely make out the figures of two Frenchmen playing some sort of card game at a table. Guards.

"Damnit," he mutters. "How am I supposed to get outta here if these bozos keep puppy guardin' us? No fair!"

Suddenly, Napoleon, accompanied by the rest of his men, appear out of nowhere. Naturally, the general starts shouting in French at the guards, berating them for God know's what. The mortified henchmen immediately stand up and straighten themselves out. They got back-breaking posture, in Al's opinion. To the march of Napoleon's nagging, they begin to pace around the crate.

An idea hits Al. A dastardly smile spreads across his face as he eyes Napoleon.

"Oh, sweet Jesus in heaven,_ 'really_ hope this works," he mutters to himself, dusting off his suit and hat.


	2. Ghiacchieron'

Napoleon motioned to the rest of his men to follow. He was satisfied with the guards' subordination — for now. Those two doofs weren't too important anyway; they only had the job because the rest of them couldn't be wasting time on such small matters — Napoleon had a man to catch, after all. What were a few aloof soldiers worth when he could and would have the whole world at his disposal?

His men following closely behind him, Napoleon walked onwards to the elevator.

He would never tell anyone, of course, but he was glad this little inspection hadn't taken too long. The storage unit made him uneasy. The way the shadows played upon the stone walls induced an onset of… particularly _queasy_ feelings, and his eyes couldn't help but dart around uncertainly.

When he saw it, he swore he felt his soul leap out of his body for a brief moment.

"_Merde!" _(Shit!)

He regained himself, of course. He had to. His men were present. What kind of leader gets spooked by a _hat_?

As professionally and inauspiciously as he was able to muster, Napoleon berated his men for standing around like fools. Get to the elevator — he'll catch up in a minute. They do as they are told, which pleases him more than they could imagine.

Once he hears the faint _ding!_ of the strange transportational contraption going up, Napoleon turns back to the object in question:

A hat. A singular hat, black and rimmed and made up of a fine, old material. It sits on the floor, near the crate of prisoners but far enough to be hidden from the guards.

He walks up to the hat and gingerly picks it up. Didn't it belong to that… that, uh, monochromatic guy? The tall, handsome one who wore a suit and spoke an awkward dialect of English?

He recalls his guards joking about that guy, calling him desperate for attempting to seduce another man. They didn't know the half of it.

Napoleon scanned the perimeter, the ghost of a smile suppressed.

"_Psst!"_

Napoleon whips around. "_Qui a dit ça?" _he mutters, nearly involuntary. (Who said that?)

"Aye, short stuff! C'mere, hurry!"

He turns to find none other than Al Capone leaning out from behind a particularly large crate. He stands only a few feet away from where the hat originally was. Al hurriedly motions for Napoleon to come over.

Napoleon walks up to Al, but not unwarily. If anything, he looks like a mixture of the personification of satisfaction and annoyance rolled into one as he stopped in front of Al, both now hidden behind the crate.

"How did you get out of your box?" hissed Napoleon. "Explain!"

"Aye, is that any way to treat an ol' buddy?" Al chuckled. "Nah, nah, I'm just messin' with ya. Take a load off, will ya?"

Napoleon was appalled. "I… you — you _what_? I am no old buddy! And what you say about _messing_! I do not understand this!"

"Okay, okay, sheesh."

_Time to change tactics, I guess, _thought Al.

Al resorted to his earlier attempt at "approbation." He took a confident, obviously noticeable step towards Napoleon so that they stood exceedingly close. Like last time.

That is, except Al lazily leaned with his elbow propping him up against the crate. This way, he was able to look down on Napoleon in a much more menacing, alluring alternative. He hoped it would make a difference — despite the little man's big talk, he took him for being weak-minded.

"C'mon, you remember me, right? I remember you. How could I forget? And, y'know what, I know you and your buddies _had_ to shack me up 'cause of bossman's orders — I get it, really — but, I gotta say, aren't I a little _different_ than the other baddies?" Al then makes a bold move — he places a hand on Napoleon's shoulder. "I mean, you _like_ me, right?"

Napoleon is startled by the touch. But he just lets it happen, surprisingly. Al watched him contemplate the whole thing for a moment — he prayed that the Frenchie actually understood what was being said to him. The cogs in that "strategist mind" were surely working away, Al mused humorously.

"You are right." Napoleon couldn't hide his obvious besottedness, but Al could sense something distantly smug. "I do want you imprisoned."

"You're a riot," Al chuckled dismissively, as if Napoleon posed no threat. "We'll see if we can't change that, ah? _Ah? _What, are you not gonna gimme a chance?"

"Give you a chance? Why?"

"Why? Well, I — I can't _tell_ you why." He could barely refrain from throwing himself into a hysteria of laughter and only smirked instead. "I'd have to _show_ you."

Napoleon looks as if he's about to indulge in a guilty pleasure, glancing around their surroundings and bobbing his head a little. "I'm… interested."

"That's what I like to hear."

And then it happened. Al grabbed either side of Napoleon's polychromatic face and tilted him upwards for a rough kiss.

_The plan is in action! And, much to Lary's probable disbelief, it's _actually _working!_

Al pulls away and immediately seeks out Napoleon's reaction. Oh, he can't help but smile. Napoleon is so clearly _dazed_, an impossibly smug look spread across his features in such a way that Al can barely think of an appropriate way to phrase it — Napoleon looked as if he had just woken up from a particularly _pleasant_ dream.

Nonetheless, he finds it cute. "You like that?"

This brings the general back into reality and he immediately flings himself into a garble of French blathering:

"_Euh, bah tu sais, ben enfin tu vois quoi —"_ Napoleon mumbled incoherently. (Uh, well you know, well, you know what —)

He was babbling, Al could tell.

"Aw, are you flustered?" Al teased. Poor bastard — probably hadn't even noticed he wasn't speaking English, he was so ruffled. "What — a big ol' tough general like you can't handle a little action?"

Even if Napoleon could not fully understand what Al meant, he knew taunting when he heard it. Still, he took the bait.

"No, I am not! I do not care for your mockery!" he hissed like an enraged mother at a supermarket. "I _do_ handle little action! I handle a lot of action!"

Al couldn't believe it. This was the jackpot of misinterpretations because of a language barrier. "Oh, _a lot_ of action? Well then, you're the bossman, not me…"

Lary was not having a good time. A harrowing encounter with Abraham Lincoln and a painfully adrenaline-induced run from Ivan the Terrible's henchmen later, he was on the elevator going down to the storage unit. The muffled hum of the music did little to calm his nerves.

A placid _ding! _later and he was walking across the cement floors stacked with scattered crates and plastic coverings. Again. This whole chase was starting to get old.

A noise snapped him from his ill-tempered thoughts. Actually, several.

He stopped in his tracks. These… these noise_s_ (plural, he realized) were eminiating from behind a longer, shorter crate that was very wide, so wide that he could not see what was on the other side of it…

"Shh, shh!" one of the voices says as if it's the funniest thing in the world. Come to think of it, that sounds a lot like Al…

Giggles, he then concludes. _Giggles. _He discerned two entities, presumably masculine, giggling as if they were children enacting something mischievous, something worth stifling their laughter and glee for…

"Hello?" Lary calls. "Who's there?" He thinks about simply walking around the crate but thinks better of it, not wanting to invoke something hostile.

The noises stop. It's amazing how quiet the storage unit is now, despite all the exhibits probably running rampant through it.

"Al?" Lary says. His tone shifts from agitated to exasperated. "Al, I know that's you. C'mon out."

Lary rolls his eyes. Christ, could this womanizer keep it in his pants for two seconds? This was a (rather inconvenient) matter of the fate of the world, for crying out loud! What's taking him so long, anyway —

Al suddenly pokes his head out from underneath the other end of the crate. He is clearly disheveled, his normally pristine suit and tie crooked and crinkled and unbuttoned, his hair mussed and his hat tilted to a forty-five degree angle. The typical appearance of a man fooling around with a lady, no doubt.

"Oh, hey there, bossman," Al says, feigning an innocent grin. His voice was higher pitched. "Didn't see ya there."

"For Christ's sake, c'mon, Al! We have to —"

Napoleon then poked his head into view, and everything clicked for Lary. Really, he should've seen it coming.

Napoleon was in the same state at Al, if not more so. The first noticeable thing was how Napoleon was obviously underneath Al, his arms secure around Al's neck and his face a dazed, beaming expression. He was disheveled, his big hat lost and his face the embodiment of a good dream mixed in with the embarrassment of being found out.

"Oh, I, uh, woah — I, um…" Lary stutters. "Woah. This is a… turn of events. I… really? You two?"

Young Al Capone and Napoleon Bonaparte hooking up… How odd was that! Lary's brain could not compute for a few seconds. It would be like finding Kleopatra and Confucius together in bed, or Aristotle and Jane Austen, or, hell, Marie Curie and John Legend!

"_Bordel de merde…" _(Oh, fuck…)


	3. Imbarazzante

"What's the big idea, Larry?" Al hissed.

They were speaking quietly yet tensely, like parents engaged in an argument that did not want to awaken their sleeping child. In this case, that child was Napoleon, who still lingered behind the crate, mostly out of sight. He was likely in the awkward process of slipping his pants back on, or perhaps his boots. Larry certainly wasn't one to pry. This whole ordeal was ridiculous, to say the least. Outright ridiculous.

"He's the _bad_ _guy_! Are you even aware of what's going on? What we've been doing for the past hour? You're _fraternizing_ with the —" Larry began, then paused from the sudden dawning of realization. "You're… you're _fraternizing_ with the _bad guy_… oh. Oh, okay. That makes this less weird. Yeah — to avoid world domination of a wax pharaoh, young Al Capone seduces Napoleon Bonaparte. Yep, just a normal night at the museum, yes sir-ee…"

"Hey, not_ just _to avoid being captured," Al corrected smugly.

As if on cue, Napoleon appeared beside him; he harbored a pleasant smile of familiarity, his guard totally let down, open and trusting. He slightly leaned on Al.

"Okay, well, good for you, but while you were out fooling around with your new boyfriend, _I _was running for my life. I crashed the plane outside the museum and it took me _forever _to get back, not to mention Ivan's men swarming after me," Larry said. "So yeah, Al, tonight has not been going great for me."

"Yeah, yeah, go cry about it." Al snorted. "We've got more important things to cry about, like: What are we gonna do now? I'm free, you're free, and Napoleon's in with us," he said, looping an arm around Napoleon. "Any plans, bossman?"

"Our goals haven't changed. We got to get Jed back safely and we can't let Kahmunrah open a portal to the underworld."

Al tilted his head a centimeter to the side. "So we gotta get in, get Jed, and destroy the portal-thingy. Or destroy Kahmunrah."

"Yeah. I've got nothing. Any ideas?"

"No, but I think a know a guy," said Al. He swung his head in Napoleon's direction, who returned his gaze gladly.

Once again, Larry had to bear witness to Al and Napoleon's affections. The way they smiled at each other was cute, he would admit, but he couldn't get over it — _Al Capone _and _Napoleon Bonaparte _. He learned about these idiots in middle school, for crying out loud!

Their affections weren't the only thing he had to bear witness to — the flirting also proved itself to be insufferable. And Larry found them insufferable for an odd, unexpected reason: Despite the weirdness of two totally different historical figures romancing each other, despite the perplexity of their circumstances, Al and Napoleon reminded him of _school. _

Al and Nippy were like middle school sweethearts — two children with odd concepts of "love" — who'd only been "dating" for one day but were already convinced they loved each other and wouldn't shy away from letting _everyone _know it! These were the kinds of people who would make out in the damn hallways, Larry thought with total annoyance.

"I can't believe we're letting ourselves be captured," Larry complained. "This is humiliating."

"Hey, I ain't the master strategist here. He knows what he's doing," said Al, who then clasped Napoleon on what Larry hoped to be his lower back, "don't you, Nippy?"

_Ugh_, they already had _nicknames _for each other. Larry was about to vomit.

"It is the only thing we can do. Remember to act like you are afraid."

"Oh, so _you're _in charge now? That's not how it played out last time, if my memory serves me right," Al cooed.

Napoleon playfully shoved Al, laughing all the while. "It can play out a lot of ways, just say the word…"

Larry couldn't let this conversation escalate; he didn't think his ears could handle much more.

"Are you sure your men won't give us away, Napoleon? I don't exactly trust them…" Larry said, earning a glare from one of the soldiers escorting them to Kahmunrah. "I mean, people don't just flip-flop from one side to the other, just like that… Aren't you worried one of them will rat us out?"

They gathered into an elevator and Larry tapped the correct buttons. Napoleon stood behind him and Al, watching Larry do so like he was performing witchcraft. Larry had to remind himself that technically, Napoleon wasn't from this world, and up until this point, was unaware of such technology.

"No. I have complete trust in my men. They are nothing but competent." Napoleon pressed up behind Al and said to his neck, "Unlike _some _people."

Unlike Larry, who probably threw up a little in his mouth, Al was ecstatic. He loved attention, first and foremost, and he loved how Nippy talked. Only an hour or two earlier, when they were having "fun", Al had said the same thing: "Unlike _some _people." Right now, Nippy was quoting him, using an English phrase he was not totally familiar with; to be honest, it sounded awkward on his French tongue — which made it all the more cute.

On the other hand, Larry was ecstatic when the doors slid open and he was able to escape from that enclosed space. Napoleon and Al took their time, the French soldiers following them wordlessly and emotionlessly.

The back and forth flirting continued all the way through the museum. It only ceased — oh, rejoice! — when they collided with a few Russian guards patrolling the sector of paintings. These men were delighted to know that the man who would make them rulers of the world was captured, yet obviously peeved that it wasn't _them _who did the capturing.

They left to report to Ivan the Terrible and, ultimately, Kahmunrah. How they beamed under their helmets — to them, things were finally coming together!

Larry was overly confident for once in his life. These 1500s Russians hadn't a clue who Abraham Lincoln was, or who his stone statue was, either, _or _that this stone statue was on _Larry's _side and would do _Larry's _bidding!

Well, in actuality, Abraham was on _Al's _and _Napoleon's _side — the former president found them "utterly delightful" and he even said "well, aren't you two adorable!". He didn't care for Larry in the slightest; he found him too uptight and whiny, or something like that.

What did Abraham Lincoln know, anyway? He was a _statue. _

After the Russian soldiers scampered off, Napoleon and Al resumed their _affections _ like clockwork — oh, the torture! They walked side-by-side and weren't discouraged by Larry's disgusted demeanor one bit.

In fact, Al was _en _couraged by it. "Aye, don't you worry 'bout this party pooper over here. I've spent enough time with the bossman to know he's just a big ol' grumpy-pants all the time, don't take it personally," he said to Nippy.

"I can tell."

"You know, I'm right here," Larry said, grumpily. "I can _hear _you."

"Hey, can you hear that?" Al asked, looking around in fake wonder. "I _swore _I heard something."

For a moment, Nippy was confused, trying to follow Al's seemingly puzzled gaze, but caught on quickly. He grinned. A long-dead child awoke behind his eyes, ready to cause mischief and be a general nuisance to everyone within a ten foot radius.

"Ah, I thought I did too, but it must be the wind," Nippy dismissed.

"Okay, guys, very funny. Might I remind you, you aren't five."

"Oh, there it goes again! God, what is it?"

Al stroked his chin, as if deep in contemplation. "Hmm, I swore I heard it, whatever it is… but all I hear is the sound of a grumpy pants poopin' on our party because he hates fun."

Oh, kill him now.


	4. Rapitore

p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Napoleon and his men "escorted" their "captives" into the room of Kahmunrah's residence. Various pieces of junk that had any resemblance of value or status were in piles strewn about; you had to be conscious of where you stepped. That's one thing about leaders, especially aspiring world-dominators: Never let yourself be led by a slob. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Beforehand, he ordered his men to act aggressive; he wanted them to use their bayonets, chiding Larry and Al forward, poking and prodding villainously. He also suggested that Larry and Al act ruffled and alert, ready to escape their evil captors at any sign of a lack of attention towards them. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Al certainly got a kick out of it. "Mr. Forceful, aren't ya? What, you're too chicken to prod me yourself?" he had teased. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Napoleon wasn't quite sure he fully understood that, but nonetheless found it delightful. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"They entered his ex-employer's line of sight. Napoleon couldn't help but avert his gaze after a heartbeat of eye contact. It was one thing to betray a commander, but it was a whole different ordeal to use their trust as a tool to infiltrate their ranks and ultimately destroy them emand /emlook them in the eyes./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"The Egyptian pharaoh was certainly pleased; he eyed the tablet in Larry's hands as if it were a treasure. If Napoleon was still under his authority, he probably would've felt prideful — a dastardly sin in Catholicism. Good thing he ended up switching sides, he thought as he eyed Al as if he were a treasure. The pharaoh then went on a great spiel about total world domination, blah blah blah, daddy issues, daddy issues, daddy issues… /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Napoleon glanced at the large windows of the room. The darkness of the night made them very reflective. Abraham Lincoln would be storming here in a little while now, along with the Museum of Natural History's ragtag army of prisoners — who happened to be Larry's friends. Everyone would get a chance to have a go at Kahmunrah, it seemed. These forces would descend upon Kahmunrah and his henchmen any minute. Napoleon was confident./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"He stood in between Amelia Earhart and Ivan the Terrible, including their respective henchmen. The leaders were intently hanging onto Kahmunrah's every word, ready for this great army to be unleashed, ready to rule the world, ready ready emready/em./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Eh. Napoleon could see that these were very lonely, unfulfilled exhibits of the museum. He had skimmed their plaques, after all./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Amelia Earhart? Never got to be the first woman to circumnavigate the world. Ivan the Terrible? First tsar of Russia with a tragic backstory that accounted for his ruthless, hate-filled nature. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"And Napoleon? Defeated at the Battle of Waterloo and exiled, once again, to the remote island of Saint Helena, where he ultimately died six years later. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"He didn't really want to think about that right now. Or ever./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"He tuned back into reality. Kahmunrah was still talking. People were still listening. The room was still quiet, no sign of the statue or Larry's friends. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Instead of listening, Napoleon thought about Abraham Lincoln. Oh, what emfun /emhe had been! He tried not to smile as he reminisced: Larry had led him and Al to the ginormous statue — Napoleon nearly had a heart attack at the size of the thing! — who proved himself to be a sort of gentle giant. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""Ah!" Abraham had exclaimed. "You brought a new friend, did you?" He peered down at the general, who clutched Al's sleeve in absentminded fright. He hated feeling small. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Abraham chuckled and turned to Larry, a hint of reproach in his voice. "So, why have you returned, small-little-man?"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""We need your help," Al piped up./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Abraham turned to him with a more pleasant expression. Larry rolled his eyes — how did Al know how to win people over so well? First he seduces Napoleon Bonaparte, now emthis/em?/p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Al explained their dilemma in the most simplistic, self-promoting way possible. Abraham nodded gravely throughout the tale; he was more than happy to oblige when Al requested that he would storm a certain area of the museum. He wouldn't have to emhurt /emanyone per se, just intimidate and knock down a few baddies. Oh, and break some glass. Now emthat'll /embe an entrance./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""Y'know, ruffle 'em up. Make 'em wet their sorry pants and you can be on your merry way, you catch my drift? Whaddya say, tough guy?"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Abraham was sagely in everything he said. "I approve of showing mercy towards your enemies rather than ruthlessness, Mr. Capone. It's very noble of you," said the statue. "And I don't mind at all! It's not like I'm particularly embusy/em, now am I?"/p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Al beamed and looked at Napoleon, looping an arm around him. He stared back up at Abraham, then at Larry, who told them they should emreally /emget a move on if they didn't want Jed to be buried six feet under in sand by the time they get back./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""More like six emmillimeters/em," Al muttered./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Napoleon chuckled./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""And, might I add," Abraham continued. The trio stopped to look up at him. "You two make an emadorable /emcouple."/p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;""Why, thank ya!" Al replied with a wave as they walked off./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Even from a considerable distance, they could still hear Abraham faintly cursing the pigeons that perched and pooped on him. They could visualize his massive arms swatting them away./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Now, as Napoleon watched Kahmunrah's spiel go on and on, he glanced at Al. The monochromatic guy was very focused on the speaker. Pity. If there was anything Napoleon enjoyed more, it was making funny back-and-forth glances, possibly funny faces at each other. The fun in it was to not get caught. His mind raced, and he nearly had to stifle a laugh at the thought of what sort of things Al would think up. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Al was a funny man. Truth be told, Napoleon didn't understand a good half of what he said, and the parts that he did understand were simple enough, but it was emhow /emAl said everything. His strange English wasn't even a factor, though it did prove to be amusing from time to time. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Nippy was sure his own English might be amusing to everyone, too, so they had that in common./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Napoleon had only known Al for a short time — one night, and what a night it had turned out to be! — but he planned to cling to him for awhile. It was only natural. As someone who was unfamiliar with this New World and its strange inhabitants and otherworldly technology and all sorts of crazy additions, all of which Napoleon had emno /emexperience with, he wouldn't shy away from saying he was struggling./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Moreover, he was emfrightened/em. Even with his men, who were equally as inexperienced as he, Napoleon's navigated this odd place awkwardly, unsure and puzzled in everything he did./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"And then, with everything that happened with Al, Napoleon had found someone whom he enjoyed (in more ways than one), someone that was as strange as the rest but liked him back, someone that could help him navigate this world less awkwardly. Someone that was sure of themself and knowledgeable — his own personal native advisor and translator, if you will./p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"Al fit the bill, Napoleon concluded, eyes trained on the side of Al's head. He had to look at him with a fleeting sideways glance or else Kahmunrah might become suspicious. /p  
p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"What would Al say to Nippy's daydreams? he then thought with amusement. Probably something like "Keep it in your pants!" or "You're a riot, y'know that?" or some other quirky English phrase that he couldn't help but grow fond of. There was something infectious about Al and his words, not in the diseased sort of way but in the way a tree's roots grow downwards, spreading, increasing, making footholds deep inside the earth…/p 


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